this morning, and that lovely woman suggested I stay at her place. She gave
me a tremendous discount, too. I’m going home tonight to get my things and ‘moving
in’ tomorrow.” She winked at Stan. “I thought I’d better check out the nightlife first.
But it’s such a delightful little town. I haven’t been back since the co-op’s annual
meeting six months ago. I always forget how adorable it is.”
“It’s very nice here. And that’s wonderful of you to come help,” Stan said. “What
about your farm?”
“What about it?” Leigh-Anne looked blank.
“Who’s going to run it while you’re here?”
“Oh, that.” Leigh-Anne waved a manicured hand. “I have a staff. It will be fine.”
“Oh. So what are you helping Emmalee with?”
“Well, whatever I can! There’s so much to do. And with the co-op to run, too, well,
she’ll need all the help she can get.” Leigh-Anne beamed at her, then turned her smile
on her semidry companion as he returned. He went around her to sit on her abandoned
stool, happily leaving Leigh-Anne next to the drink-spiller. “That’s Tony,” she said
to Stan. “I’m sorry he’s not being friendly.”
“Well, I did spill on him,” Stan said.
“He’ll be fine.” Leigh-Anne turned a pointed stare on Tony, and his whole demeanor
changed.
He leaned over to Stan and offered his hand. “Tony Falco. No harm done with the water.”
Tony Falco? As in the guy on the election sign? “Nice to meet you. Stan Connor.”
“Stan. Interesting name. Do you live here in Frog Ledge?”
“I do, actually.”
“Oh, well then.” His entire demeanor changed, and charm spilled out of every pore.
“Perhaps you’ve heard of me. I’m running for mayor.”
Behind him, Leigh-Anne raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Always campaigning.”
Stan smiled. “I have heard of you. Your sign is in the Hoffmans’ yard.”
Tony Falco sobered. “Yes. Yes it is. Hal is—was—a good friend.”
“I know. It’s terrible,” Leigh-Anne said, shaking her head. “Just terrible.”
“So how do you two know each other?” Stan asked.
“Oh, Tony was a dear friend of my late husband,” Leigh-Anne said.
“Yes. Good man. Well, lovely to meet you,” he said to Stan. “I’m having a fund-raiser
on Tuesday. At the hospital. Please come. Although you might’ve liked the one on Thursday
better. It was held at the local winery. Everetts’—do you know it? Anyway, it was
wonderful. Don’t you agree, Leigh-Anne?”
“Delightful,” Leigh-Anne said. “Lovely place. But the hospital will be lovely, too,
I’m sure. Do come, Stan.”
“I’ll try,” Stan said, noncommittal. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“I’ll see you on the farm!” Leigh-Anne tugged a short, purple leather coat on and
waggled her fingers at Stan, then followed Falco.
Stan said her good-byes back and watched them walk through the pub to the door. Their
seats were grabbed before they even got halfway there. She took the last swig of her
wine and thought it might be time to go, too, but before she could commit to that
decision, another glass landed in front of her. Behind it, Jake winked.
“The show’s not over yet,” he said. “Stella.”
Chapter 11
“You’re what? ”
Stan held the phone away from her ear to ward off Nikki’s high-pitched scream of protest.
Stan had called her first thing Sunday morning after she’d finally found the energy
to roll out of bed at eight—late for her—with the aftereffects of wine still lingering.
She’d had a great time at McSwigg’s, and stayed a lot later than she should have.
She’d enjoyed the step dancers, chatted with some of her fellow townsfolk, and spent
a lot of time watching Jake when he wasn’t looking. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed. She’d
also noodled the conversation she’d overheard among the group of onerous-looking men,
dissecting it in the back of her brain, looking for any clues that might
me a tremendous discount, too. I’m going home tonight to get my things and ‘moving
in’ tomorrow.” She winked at Stan. “I thought I’d better check out the nightlife first.
But it’s such a delightful little town. I haven’t been back since the co-op’s annual
meeting six months ago. I always forget how adorable it is.”
“It’s very nice here. And that’s wonderful of you to come help,” Stan said. “What
about your farm?”
“What about it?” Leigh-Anne looked blank.
“Who’s going to run it while you’re here?”
“Oh, that.” Leigh-Anne waved a manicured hand. “I have a staff. It will be fine.”
“Oh. So what are you helping Emmalee with?”
“Well, whatever I can! There’s so much to do. And with the co-op to run, too, well,
she’ll need all the help she can get.” Leigh-Anne beamed at her, then turned her smile
on her semidry companion as he returned. He went around her to sit on her abandoned
stool, happily leaving Leigh-Anne next to the drink-spiller. “That’s Tony,” she said
to Stan. “I’m sorry he’s not being friendly.”
“Well, I did spill on him,” Stan said.
“He’ll be fine.” Leigh-Anne turned a pointed stare on Tony, and his whole demeanor
changed.
He leaned over to Stan and offered his hand. “Tony Falco. No harm done with the water.”
Tony Falco? As in the guy on the election sign? “Nice to meet you. Stan Connor.”
“Stan. Interesting name. Do you live here in Frog Ledge?”
“I do, actually.”
“Oh, well then.” His entire demeanor changed, and charm spilled out of every pore.
“Perhaps you’ve heard of me. I’m running for mayor.”
Behind him, Leigh-Anne raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Always campaigning.”
Stan smiled. “I have heard of you. Your sign is in the Hoffmans’ yard.”
Tony Falco sobered. “Yes. Yes it is. Hal is—was—a good friend.”
“I know. It’s terrible,” Leigh-Anne said, shaking her head. “Just terrible.”
“So how do you two know each other?” Stan asked.
“Oh, Tony was a dear friend of my late husband,” Leigh-Anne said.
“Yes. Good man. Well, lovely to meet you,” he said to Stan. “I’m having a fund-raiser
on Tuesday. At the hospital. Please come. Although you might’ve liked the one on Thursday
better. It was held at the local winery. Everetts’—do you know it? Anyway, it was
wonderful. Don’t you agree, Leigh-Anne?”
“Delightful,” Leigh-Anne said. “Lovely place. But the hospital will be lovely, too,
I’m sure. Do come, Stan.”
“I’ll try,” Stan said, noncommittal. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“I’ll see you on the farm!” Leigh-Anne tugged a short, purple leather coat on and
waggled her fingers at Stan, then followed Falco.
Stan said her good-byes back and watched them walk through the pub to the door. Their
seats were grabbed before they even got halfway there. She took the last swig of her
wine and thought it might be time to go, too, but before she could commit to that
decision, another glass landed in front of her. Behind it, Jake winked.
“The show’s not over yet,” he said. “Stella.”
Chapter 11
“You’re what? ”
Stan held the phone away from her ear to ward off Nikki’s high-pitched scream of protest.
Stan had called her first thing Sunday morning after she’d finally found the energy
to roll out of bed at eight—late for her—with the aftereffects of wine still lingering.
She’d had a great time at McSwigg’s, and stayed a lot later than she should have.
She’d enjoyed the step dancers, chatted with some of her fellow townsfolk, and spent
a lot of time watching Jake when he wasn’t looking. Hopefully he hadn’t noticed. She’d
also noodled the conversation she’d overheard among the group of onerous-looking men,
dissecting it in the back of her brain, looking for any clues that might
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